


An Unexpected Visit

by madxviolet



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Brothers, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9657275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madxviolet/pseuds/madxviolet
Summary: Lincoln always has a habit of asking his little brother for help with all his problems. He rarely stopped to think that Michael had his own. Fortunately for both, Lincoln's arrival is most advantageous.Complete chapters posted.





	1. The Sneak Peek

**Author's Note:**

> I just started watching Prison Break by accident. I've binged all 4 seasons in 2 weeks, and when I learned they were rebooting it, I was so stoked! I instantly fell in love with Michael and Lincoln's relationship, so I actually dusted off all the pervier parts of my mind and sat down to write a fic. I was so bummed out when there weren't many current communities for this until I found out about this place. I've only just gotten an account, so I hope to post and read a little more often.  
>   
> I LOVE the tattoos so he has them back in this universe of mine. There are a lot of dynamics true to the show, but I've also tweaked a few things to fit my character development and storyline needs, so it's not 100% canon.  
>   
> This is a chaptered piece, but it is complete. Each chapter has some dirt in it but the full on brotherly love isn't until the last bits. I'll be posting every couple days, depending on if this gets any feedback or not. If you find any mistakes, let me know! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

It wasn't like he _wasn't_ welcome. It wasn't like he was breaking in. He had a key. Just because he'd never used it, doesn't mean he _shouldn't_ use it. He wasn't really stopping by, though, he reminded himself. He paced the rich, eggshell tinted carpet that lined the lavish hallway of penthouses before his brother's door for what seemed like hours as he reasoned it out in his mind. It wasn't about whether or not he would be well-received, it was about his pride. Could he tell Michael, again, that he needed his help cleaning up another stupid mistake, again? This had been the longest streak he'd had keeping his problems far from home.

Lincoln had long ago admitted to himself that he wasn't as clever or strategic as Michael, even being the eldest sibling who was supposed to be in control. He was forced to face that he couldn't take care of things as he was being shuttled off to juvie every six to eight months, and poor Michael was being shuffled through foster families when he was still just a child. Lincoln was only thankful that he wasn't around to be a bad influence when he'd received a picture of Michael with his Master's degree through a trusted friend's PO Box. The letter that came with it contained only an address, and a key with the note: _In case you ever need it_.

Typical Michael to be the shelter to Lincoln's storms. Typical Lincoln to slosh up the waves for Michael to try and outrun for them both.

 

 _In case I need it_ , Lincoln repeated the words to his inner reluctance, remembering his brother's handwriting. Calm and structured, strong and confident. Lincoln needed it. He always needed Michael. He put the key to the door, and turned the knob.

The apartment was imposing, and for a second, Lincoln felt a sharp pang of jealousy mingle with the awe. An old, thin mat directly on the floor of a walk-in closet had been Lincoln's home for the past three months, and now that he couldn't go back there... Well, he just hoped that Michael would let him stay for a couple of days without _too_ many questions until he figured out what to do. Everything was in its place, just as it would be in Michael's home, but he didn't appear to be there. The house was lonely, only the lights glittering off the city past the parted vertical blinds coming through floor-to-ceiling windows lit the way.

And then Lincoln heard it. A faint sigh, and then a sharp gasp. Then a moan. Lincoln felt absurd. He hadn't ever considered that his brother could be entertaining a guest. Or, the way it sounded, a guest would be entertaining him. Lincoln tried to stop himself, but his legs carried him closer to the back of the house, closer to the sound. Unmistakeable slurping and sipping, Lincoln kind of felt his heart swell with pride at the notion of his little bro getting some head. Reflecting on things, he realized he'd never gotten the opportunity to talk to Michael about girls, or sex, when they were younger, and he hadn't ever heard him talk about a potential girlfriend. It felt kind of like learning the long overdue secret of a teenaged first kiss.

"Oh my god," a low voice howled before another hiss of approval. "God-fucking-dammit."

Lincoln knitted his brows closer together and leant toward the door. The voice was overly-masculine, powerful, and deep; it didn't have the soothing, easy velour of Michael's. He plucked courage from deep beneath his nerves and forced a look inside. A thick, burly man was laid out across the top of the bed, and between his legs, Lincoln's little brother was on all fours facing the doorway. His mouth completely full, he _had_ to be choking out but he made little noise. His eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut, gathering tears of composure under pressure so that they never fell. His head bobbing fiercely, the other man's large hands clasped completely around the back of Michael's skull to ensure that he properly gobbled every inch. Lincoln's eyes widened as he froze for a moment. He swallowed harshly, a thick, dry, lump obstructing his breath, and backed away before being caught lurking.

Lincoln released captive air, but sex sounds now deafened him. Every smack of lips against flesh was an assault on Lincoln's senses and he wanted to get out. If it were Michael being sucked on by a woman that way, he'd have to spy on a voyeur's goldmine principle alone. When he thought that was the case, he had been proud. But seeing Michael like that- so giving, so utterly _pornographic_... it had completely caught Lincoln off guard. Mostly because that was his baby brother. But, then, there was the part where Lincoln hadn't seen skills like that in a long while, and he'd be lying to his hips if he couldn't admit that it gruesomely turned him on. He'd only gotten so lucky to find a woman who could handle an esophogeal beating so rough when he was hanging out with practiced hookers on the streets. It was arresting to catch _Michael_ that way.

 

A steady crescendo of gutteral groans snapped Lincoln from his contemplative stupor.  
  
“Jesus Christ.” A pleased, and sated breath escaped shortly after the words.

Lincoln steeled himself and braced his weight against the wall, just far enough away that he couldn't see anything inside the room but the edge of the bed, and the man's hand, clenching Michael's charcoal sheets.

“Gimme a few then I'm gonna go again. I wanna use that ass,” he growled between oxygen starved heaves. “She never lets me come inside her but you let me spill every drop, don't you? You ride it out til you're so sloppy I can't even look at you but you're _still_ begging me for more... fucking slut.”

His voice was muffled, probably against Michael's skin, but he sounded so eager and hungry. Lincoln fumed at how this bastard was speaking, so vigorously demeaning to his little brother, but Michael only responded favorably from the sound of it. Hot, hurried breath cut through the quiet, he could tell they were kissing, and panic seared Lincoln's lungs as he feared they would go further.

 

Should he leave? Should he interrupt? Should he keep perfectly still until he melted into the decor from the heat of disgrace on his face that rose when he wanted to stay, and see where it went? A cellular ring made the choice for him. He pressed himself into the plaster, but didn't move.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Michael spat. Lincoln jolted at the fire on Michael's tongue. “Do not answer it.” Each syllable was defined with a sharp staccato.

“Look, I can't just-” the man tried to calm things down a little, but Michael didn't seem to bite, judging on the swiftness he shut up. “Come on, I know this seems to happen every time, but she's my wife. I have to answer it.” He'd dialed back to a slow, even drone, like when you're patronizing a little kid, and the ringing stopped.

“Yes, my love,” he cooed, the gentleness juxtaposing his built-up bulk. Lincoln leaned forward in time to see Michael wince, now sat slumped over himself off the side of the mattress, staring at the floor. Lincoln couldn't help but notice how informally this man had addressed his brother in comparison and he raged. The anger clashed with an ache in Lincoln's heart. The only person he truly, unconditionally cared for didn't seem to believe he deserved being cared for. Lincoln realized that was probably his fault for leaving him on his own so many times in the past.

Lincoln closed his eyes as he heard the motion of rearrangement. “She, uh, we have dinner plans with the kids. Julianne's back from Brown, so... I was looking so forward to this- I forgot and, I have to, ah- I should get going.” Lincoln recognized the shimmy of trouser pants being pulled up and then the zipper, finalizing the arguement. “But, you know I'm grateful. For everything.” A pause dragged agonizingly through the tension in the room. He huffed. “Come on, Scofield. You know I love this, our time together. Your fucking mouth. But you knew what this was gonna be. I have a family. I can't just drop everything for _you._ ”

 

Michael remained speechless, but Lincoln didn't dare peel his lids back to see him sulking. He hated seeing his brother in pain. He did need to move from that spot though, before Michael's jackass company decided to stroll out of the room, blowing Lincoln's cover and effectively ending his own life. He ducked into what he learned to be a bathroom before he heard the man walk down the hallway, and out of the apartment. Not sure how to continue, Lincoln stood in the void blackness, searching for an answer to his own question: What should I do about this?

On one hand, Lincoln had walked into something he wasn't meant to see, but more importantly, a huge part of Michael's life that he had never shared. On the other, Lincoln knew only that his brother had just been burned. It took everything he had to restrain himself when the snake passed his hiding spot to slither out. But once he was gone, Lincoln just wanted to go to Michael. When he gathered the courage to knock on the bedroom door, he heard the sickeningly familiar sound of Michael's sobs and sniffles fading into his pillow. The same kind he used to catch on occasion in the middle of the night as he'd go in to leave little paper cranes beside Michael's bed to let him know that he'd been there checking on him.

 

Throwing caution to the wind, and only knowing that he wanted to console the younger, Lincoln spoke. “Michael,” he whispered, just loud enough to be heard.

Michael didn't move though the sound should've been a complete surprise. His shoulders tightened as he hugged the pillow closer to his face and he took a deep breath in, but he didn't turn to look. He was laying with his chest to the mattress, his lower body curled up beside him, and the sheet very barely draped over his still unclothed form. In the darkness Lincoln could only see a silhouette, shaking lightly.

“Michael, why didn't you tell me?” Lincoln asked softly as he sat down, wondering if he should make any attempt to reach out or stay put. Michael still hadn't acknowledged him and he hoped that he hadn't caused anything by showing up unannounced to such a delicate situation.

“That I sleep with married men who work in my office because it's discreet and convenient for both of us? That I'm not ok with being the side-piece but I can't find the courage to be the partner? That I can't love myself because I'm ashamed? That I'm terrified I won't ever be loved because I'm so ashamed? What should I have said?” He tilted his head a bit as he spoke so that Lincoln could hear him, but he wouldn't turn.

Lincoln knew that though he played it collected and controlled, Michael's statement was uncharacteristically bitter and laced with an humiliation that almost scared him. If he had known that his only family was struggling this badly he would've come back before, and for the right reasons.

“ _I_ love you,” Lincoln countered quietly, edging a little closer. “I always have, I always will. I'm sorry-” Lincoln hushed himself because he didn't know what to apologize for. There were so, so many things. “I'm just sorry, Mike. I should've been there for you. I should've been here.”

Michael eventually rolled himself over, his watery eyes averting Lincoln's gaze. “You didn't know.”

Embarrassed that Lincoln _hadn't_ known his brother well enough to work it out for himself, and feeling remorse that he was never around enough to have been talked to about it, he broke the silence and reached for Michael's arm, giving it a languid, apologetic stroke. “I should have known.”

 

A somber break began to grow uneasy as Lincoln could sense Michael rehashing everything to himself.

“So, you work with that asshole?” Lincoln sneered at the thought as he laid himself out a couple feet beside Michael, taking in the balance of soft and firm in the mattress, the plushness of the bedding, the musky smell still thick in the threads...

“He's my boss,” Michael answered numbly. “I've been thinking of a new job.”

“Seriously, the way he talked to you- I wanted to kill that guy. I swear, I could've strangled him.” Lincoln expected classic, contrary Michael; but Michael stayed quiet, letting himself stew in contrition. Lincoln wasn't sure what to do. By this point, Michael was supposed to be dampening the fire with his logic and calling Lincoln off.

“Hey, Michael,” Lincoln stopped cold, wondering if he should really continue with his brotherly jested, but still truly interested, attempt at brightening the mood. “How did you possibly learn to take that without throwing up?”

 

Lincoln could feel Michael blushing through the dark.

 

 


	2. The Troubled Sea

It felt a little torturous that Michael didn't say anything. He didn't have a smart comment or playful retort. The silence just washed over everything like noxious gas. Lincoln almost wished he hadn't said anything because now he could only think about that hidden talent.

 

“How did you possibly manage show up at this exact moment?” Michael's voice tripped Lincoln's train of thought and he came back to life.

“Well... it's nothing really. I have a little problem and like always, I need your help. But it's not as important as your problem right now.” Lincoln looked over at his brother, who shot him a puzzled glance back.

“My problem?” Michael questioned.

“You need to clean your sheets.” Lincoln tried, laughing just a bit. To his relief, so did Michael.

“Right now the only thing I want is a shower, and maybe some weed.”

“Drugs, Michael?” Lincoln feigned shock. “When did you start smoking regularly?”

Michael scoffed and flashed an enervated smile as his lids fell closed. “When you left a quarter and some Zig-Zags in my clothes after you got taken away when I was 11. You probably stashed it in my stuff so you wouldn't get caught. I was thankful they never found it on me and I was able to use it when I needed it. It was nice to forget things for a little while.”

Lincoln's veins ran ice cold remembering that when he was 15, the first time he'd actually had to serve some real time, Michael was only 11 and sent to live with a wife whose husband beat him and locked him in a tiny storage shed in the yard for days on end. Lincoln wasn't there to protect him _then_ either. Forced to grow up barely into double digits, Michael was tasked with rebuilding his life alone, and he had done better than fine. No help from his brother. The pit of Lincoln's stomach was aflame with regret and self-loathing as Michael rose from the bed, no regard for his nudity or tear-tracked face, and made his way to the master bath. The water started and Lincoln heard the slight swish of a heavy glass door opening up.

“There are some wraps and a jar in the drawer on the right,” Michael called from the next room. Lincoln raised his eyebrows and nodded, and reached for the handle.

 

Lincoln waited for a few minutes before he sparked it up and made his way into the bathroom. It was bright, and white, and sterile like a hospital. The steam fogged the mirror and glass of the stall and Lincoln blew smoke into the mist. “You want?” He saw his brother nod through the frost and the door opened up, Michael's face appearing, his lips slightly parted.

“Wet hands,” he cited after Lincoln hesitated. Lincoln raised the blunt to Michael's lips and let him take a long drag. The only thing Lincoln could think about was a stiffened member in its place thoroughly stuffing Michael's mouth instead.

 _What is wrong with you?!_ Lincoln scolded himself internally. He jerked the joint away quickly to blur the thought, and Michael furrowed his brows. The way the shower door peeked open, Lincoln could see droplets sliding down Michael's chest and further down his body. Lincoln willed himself to look away but the scalding image of a particularly merciless blow job in all it's twisted, perverted glory remained permanent in his sight, eyes open or closed.

Lincoln took a long hit himself, feeling the smoke suffocating him like the cumbersome crush of being criminally attracted to your own lineage engaging in oral sex might do. Maybe it was just a primal need as a human being for some contact of his own. Maybe it was because of how good it seemed. Either way, Lincoln was sure that this was wrong on too many levels and he ought to think of _anything_ else.

“Everything ok?” said Michael carefully, still stood with the shower open enough that Lincoln could feel rogue water splashing his skin now. He still couldn't bear to meet those clear blue eyes.

“I'm fine, I guess. I just haven't smoked in a minute and... I'm feeling it.” Michael smirked and closed the door. Thank fucking god he closed the door.

“Medical grade, it'll hit you fast.” Lincoln knew the pot was the least of his concern right now but he was thrilled to know his diversion had worked, on Michael anyway.

Remembering himself, Lincoln shook his head. “Are _you_ ok?” He hoped to whatever heaven waited beyond that Michael would take the bait and turn the subject back to himself. Michael sighed heavily and let himself think for a moment before he got back to him.

“I guess I feel a little...” Michael trailed off and Lincoln waited with anticipation against the marble counter top behind him. “Guilty.”

“Guilty?” Lincoln echoed.

“You caught me at a... a pretty bad time. I didn't handle it well. I'm sorry you had to see... all of that.”

Despite the severity of the conversation, Lincoln wouldn't stop being reminded of unclean and certainly improper imagery that he shouldn't be dwelling on when Michael said “all of that.” A nagging voice inside his conscience told him to focus on the fact that he was needed as support and should never, in any case, at any time, be thinking about _all of that._

“You're good,” Lincoln gulped, the only one realizing the double entendre, and took another puff. The taps squeaked off and Michael's hand fished a towel from the hook beside the door. Lincoln thought he should leave the room so he began to do just that.

“Linc,” Michael called as he stepped up beside his brother. “I'll take that,” he breathed, thin and shallow, as he grabbed the blunt between Lincoln's fingers. He seemed fragile and Lincoln faltered, not knowing what he should or could do for Michael. So, tail between his legs as it were, he retreated.

 

Michael was never one to _submit_. He never was the kind of person to let circumstance dictate how he carried himself. The older sibling admired that about him- he usually just lost his temper and ended up in handcuffs. Lincoln was brawny and physically able, but Michael had a mental stability about him that everyone who had seen it envied. Lincoln was learning that Michael was quite an exceptional liar. Even Lincoln didn't know what a troubled cacophony brewed just below those icy baby blue fronts because of the ornate shield Michael had expertly constructed around his past for the outside world.

From his place sat back on the bed, Lincoln couldn't help but trace the lines of the vast blue-black tattoos that covered the entirety of Michael's upper body as he spread his hands across the edge of the counter, dipping his head between his shoulder blades and exhaling. Telltale signs of regenerating his shiny exterior polish and reprogramming his emotions out. Lincoln thought for the first time that it would have to be excruciating for Michael to live his life that way on top of all the other crosses he had to bear.

Lincoln selfishly tried to brace himself. He remembered hearing about that family, the one when Michael was 11, for the first time. He punched a window _and_ a wall. He was practically foaming at the mouth and _Michael_ had to wrangle him in. He remembered the bullies that used to kick his little brother to the ground and steal his confidence as they taunted his homelessness, dead parents and jailbird brother. Lincoln wanted to bash their heads in, and demanded that Michael tell him who it was when he could come around. Michael was the one who kept him in line and told him that he would be ok, in spite of everything. When Lincoln would use his one call to tell him that he would be out as soon as he could and that he would find him wherever he was and get him out, too, Michael was the one who told him not to worry because he could handle it. Michael was always the one who reassured Lincoln that it would be all right.

Lincoln wished he could scoop him into his arms like when Michael was smaller, hold him to his chest and rock him until he surrendered to sleep. He wished he could still be his hero. But as a grown man in his early thirties, what was Lincoln supposed to do for Michael now? He suddenly felt very foolish coming in uninvited to ask for cooperation with no forethought for another when Michael was dealing with so much already.

 

Michael didn't come out for what seemed like ages. When he did he moved in slow motion. His eyes hanging low from the weed, he'd still ignored getting dressed and crumpled himself up atop fine Egyptian linen, back facing his guest. Michael pulled the wrinkled up covers behind him smooth over his shoulders, yanking a little bit when they snagged under his brother. The clock just beyond him read 10:08, the same as Michael's birthday, and Lincoln wondered if leaving would be beneficial so that Michael could get some rest. The longer Lincoln stayed, he wondered if maybe he'd be lucky and the weed had already put Michael out. Lincoln tried not to move much as he got up from the bed and gave one last look at the heap in front of him. He wanted to reach for Michael again but he turned around instead, planning that Michael had probably been well-off enough to be able to afford a nice guest room.

“Don't leave me.” Michael's meek plea felt like a whip cracking at Lincoln's back.

As his entire being wrenched, Lincoln dropped himself back down beside his brother and kicked his socks and shoes off.

 


	3. The Truth

Through the empty space between them Lincoln could see the outline of his brother's rising and falling frame. Lincoln wondered if his earlier bathroom pep-talk had been enough to still Michael's mind. He wished that he could still his own stirring mind. He just wanted to get through this night. The impulse to hold Michael hadn't yet gone. In fact, the longer Lincoln bathed in Michael's vulnerability, that feeling- whatever _feeling_ it was- grew much worse.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered, catching Lincoln in thought.

“Yeah, Mike. What for?”

“Being here. Right now. I need you.” The words sliced the fabric that held Lincoln together. His brother had rarely told him that. Lincoln was rarely ever there to be relied upon. But Lincoln didn't know how to communicate that every thing he stole, every wrong he'd done, was for Michael. To keep him out of harm's way. He always felt that if he made all the wrong mistakes there would be only learning ones left. As Lincoln laid in his brother's giant, luxuriously appointed apartment in a wealthy neighborhood he knew he'd made the right decisions.

“I'm glad I'm here, too. You're gonna get through this. I'm gonna help you for a change.” Lincoln knew that the promise was bold, but he had every intention on making good. Despite the fact he had nowhere else to go, he wanted nowhere else to be.

“I don't want to be alone anymore.”

Stinging and raw, the sadness in Michael's tone made Lincoln shove modesty aside and he closed on his brother. Michael's body felt solid and warm against Lincoln's chest, and he felt Michael clasp his limb as he draped his arm over him. Though he made no sound, Lincoln could feel him contract with each silent sob. Lincoln pulled him closer, wishing to bury his face between his shoulders and breathe in bare skin exposed by the pull of Lincoln's weight on the duvet.

Lincoln's aversion to the unacceptable inquisitiveness introduced to his brotherly role was burning. It made him want to push Michael away immediately to stifle the sensation. But how could he do that with Michael settled into him? Unable to move, Lincoln felt predatory only appetized in satisfying this strange new addiction, and mortified that he was so piqued by his own _male_ sibling. Lincoln grew antsy the more he wrestled with himself, thinking maybe the reason things had never worked out with Veronica was because he wasn't meant to be with women? He knew it wasn't true- he'd never even thought of it before now. He loved Veronica with his whole heart, even with their problems. He nearly went crazy when she left him.

 

The only person he'd ever felt more intensely about was Michael.

 

Reality snapped at him when he felt Michael spin around in his embrace, looking into his eyes properly for the first time since they'd been in the same room. The elder only prayed that his little brother wouldn't realize how disconnected he was right now. He felt like any waver in his already pathetic willpower and he wouldn't be able to stop his body from showing Michael what was on his mind.

Michael broke their stare and pulled from Lincoln's hold, creating a rift where his warmth had been. “Are you ok with it? With me?” The fact that Michael had to ask told Lincoln that he felt something wasn't quite normal. He reeled, not ever intending Michael to think he wouldn't accept him but not knowing how to tell him what he was really thinking.

“You're everything to me. That's never gonna change.” Michael sighed. Lincoln hoped it was relief.

Lincoln propped himself up on his elbow and looked between them, hoping that the distraction on Michael's skin was enough of an excuse to be staring. He figured Michael had to be used to that. The blankets were steadily retreating with the shifting they were doing and Lincoln could smell the wash Michael had used in the shower. His own chemistry mingled nicely with the scent and Lincoln settled his thigh over his lap, trying to drown the embers he couldn't deny were smoldering there.

“When did you know about it? How did you find out?”

“I don't know,” Michael mused. “I always knew there was something very different about me.”

The older brother invited the younger in again and Lincoln hooked his other arm beneath him so that he was holding Michael with both. He nestled into Lincoln, Michael's head just below his chin. His breath was heated through Lincoln's clothes. Instantly, Lincoln clenched his jaw and started to melt. It felt so oddly reminiscent of when they were freshly on their own with nothing but each other, while at the same time feeling new and naughty and forbidden _because_ of each other.

Lincoln could tell that Michael was keeping something as he fidgeted and took a drawn out drink of air.

 

“I used to watch you sometimes,” he croaked. “With girls... and not with girls.” The admission felt so one-sided but opened the door for Lincoln. If he confessed that he was craving a lethal taste it could be no turning back. If he didn't do anything he might never get another chance.

“Why did you tell me that?” Lincoln blurted out.

“Because you were watching me."

Lincoln hadn't realized that his hands both rested flat against Michael, committing the feeling of him to memory. The hand from beneath Michael's body lay at the bottom of his neck and Lincoln let his fingers stalk towards Michael's hairline. The other found its place at the dimples just above his waist, longing to explore further. Michael's hands gripped Lincoln's cotton tee loosely and he shied into Lincoln's pecs.

“They've all looked like you.”

Michael picked his head up, and searched Lincoln's eyes before gingerly leaning in, pressing his lips so faint against Lincoln's own. It was pure electrocution, so blinding and overwhelming that Lincoln felt his system fail. Nothing responded- his mind was blank, his capacity gone as his gut burst apart into butterflies. After the shock, a wave of greed washed any inhibition clear and an adrenaline rushed Lincoln devoured him. His tongue forced its way into Michael's mouth, met with fresh mint of toothpaste and velvet.

 

Michael's hands were cupping Lincoln's face, and Lincoln was running his own mindlessly and frantically over every measurable space on Michael's torso. He yearned to get more adventurous, but was already making out with his own brother and felt he should really end it right then. But his blood supply had abdicated his brain and there was no way for him to ignore it. Michael had to have felt it. The surge of taboo paired with a flood of absolute _love_ fed Lincoln's desire to carry on.

Michael brushed his hands under Lincoln's shirt to trace his abs and he paused at the waistband of Lincoln's jeans.

“Linc,” Michael gasped as Lincoln nudged himself in Michael's direction involuntarily. “You don't have to-”

Instead of taking the exit that'd been presented, Lincoln broke him off with an insistent, insatiable kiss.

“I need to,” Lincoln quivered, succumbing to unconventionality as he seized Michael's hand and palmed himself over his jeans with Michael's touch.

 


	4. The Blow Job

The bedding that separated them threatened to fall away as Michael's wandering hands moved outside of it and Lincoln's invaded it. Michael's fingers were nimble and comfortable as he traced the stitching on the crotch of Lincoln's jeans and slunk himself down. Poised at Lincoln's lap, the older of the two could tell Michael was being as pensive as he always was and tried to remain calm. But his brain only knew that he needed to touch, taste and feel everything that'd just been taken away or he may implode.

Michael's light eyes flickered as he looked his brother up and down. Lincoln watched with bated breath. Michael kept the sheet bunched up around his body and he pushed Lincoln aside onto his back, straddling his lower legs. Lincoln could feel that Michael was aroused and every brush of it against him through layers of threading made Lincoln's head dizzy. Michael's chest heaved as he breathed in, long and even. He looked down over Lincoln, seeming to marvel as he bit his lower lip. When the navy denim began to zip away Lincoln could feel himself deteriorating.

The younger of the two took his time. He was savoring this as if it were a special treat he'd spent all his life waiting on. Running a sole fingertip slowly through the wiry hair on Lincoln's lower stomach just above the elastic band of his underthings, Michael licked his lips and drew the border further down with his digit. He was going so achingly sluggish that Lincoln could feel himself beginning to sweat. Just before reaching what Lincoln felt he was going for, he stopped. The elastic slapped back to its place with a dull pop.

Michael was kneading himself casually against Lincoln's legs as his breath grew louder but no more hasty. Through his lust-drunk haze it dawned on Lincoln that disciplined Michael was under control. It frustrated Lincoln that he should be calling the shots,  _he_ should be the one in charge. But a hormone-crazed fog held his volition hostage like when he'd been a virgin, starving to lose it but nervous to try. Lincoln began to sit up because he had to pretend to bid for power, though he knew he had none. Michael only placed a large open hand against his pecs to keep him down.

Not used to being the passenger, Lincoln felt foreign underneath another man. He felt that to be his nature trying to prevent aberration, but he understood that this wasn't just  _any_ man. He swallowed his pride and laid back, letting Michael crack that smirk of his with darkening eyes at his victory before he spread his touch up Lincoln's body. Lincoln wanted to scream at him and force him to hurry it along. But he could hardly even see straight, let alone form any demands. 

Michael shoved Lincoln's t-shirt up and bent himself down over the exposure. Peppering kisses over his stomach, he put his hands atop Lincoln's thighs again and started to push his pants away, getting them down to his knees effortlessly. Lincoln could feel every humid exhalation Michael left against his bared hips magnified as the contact moved closer to his waistband. He was painfully engorged now and the mixed materials against his sensitive, leaking cock under the heaviness of another person ground him like sandpaper. If he didn't get this fucking underwear off...

 

But Michael digressed. Rather than removing the offending garment he simply went over it. When he finally opened his mouth around Lincoln's shaft, taut against him because of the cutting boxer briefs, Lincoln felt he could shoot his load right then and there. Had he been a little younger, he probably would've. Michael ran his tongue along the length and sucked gently when he got to the end. Lincoln clamped his eyes to avoid the scandal that smothered him when he caught stares with Michael while he lapped at the sticky dark stain that had already grown against the heather-gray print. Lincoln could feel Michael's face pressed to the fabric constricting his groin as he began to pull it away.

Lincoln yelped with discomfort as Michael let go, refusing to free him. He only ran his hand across the overly sensitive area, squeezing just a little bit. He looked for Lincoln's glance and with cat-like speed he got to his knees on the ground at the foot of the bed. Lincoln picked his head up to gauge Michael's next move but it seemed to be lost on them both.

“You want to stop.” Lincoln felt the words hurled from his mouth before he could shush himself. It was an accusation, not a question.

“We should,” Michael agreed, to Lincoln's horror. “I don't think this is a good idea.”

Lincoln felt like he would be in tears. He began to shake his head as he felt the moment fleeing faster than it had appeared. Michael was denying him. How could this have happened after everything that already had? The admission, the passionate kisses, the _goddamn fondling_.

“It's not you,” Michael assured quickly, noticing Lincoln's building frenzy. “I swear, Linc, it's me. For me-” Michael gritted his teeth and laid his forehead to the edge of the mattress.

“Everyday it takes so much for me to just _live_ \- I get to let go. It's a release for me. I lose everything I hate about myself. I'm supposed to like it. It's _normal_ if I like it. I don't have to feel bad because it's supposed to feel good for everybody.”

Michael put his head in his hands and deflated against the bed frame. “I've spent so much of my life hating myself for being-” Michael halted, unable to say the word. “This _really_ isn't normal. If this happens, I can't- we already can't change what's happened. I have a hard enough time living with myself because of what I told you, about you. If this goes any further it's gonna make it impossible for me. I won't be able to handle it if this messes things up with us.”

 

Lincoln hadn't known about Michael's feelings before so he hadn't acknowledged the suffering that it had been causing him until that point. He wasn't prepared to cause anymore upset. Still, Lincoln was petrified that this could be as far as it goes when he'd only just discovered that he _also_ wanted to delve still further into this new, exhilarating realm. He had thought he was being plain that he was totally on board with all of this. But Michael had been scrutinizing the consequences of these actions for years in great detail.

“No, it's not- We won't-” Lincoln could hear himself babbling incoherently while he crawled like a beggar toward Michael whose head hung back over the edge of the bed so that Lincoln could see the worry on his face upside down. Michael closed his eyes, screwing so tightly that Lincoln knew he was near defeat, as he sighed fragmented and weary.

Lincoln balked as his jeans rode up. They teased how swollen he'd become as the friction slashed at his senses. He kicked them off with difficulty. Even if nothing was going to happen, he had to have a _little_ relief. There was nothing Lincoln could comprehend but to meld his mouth to Michael's again from above him. Michael resisted and thinned his lips, moving to break them apart. Lincoln's strong hands gripped his shoulders and held him in place.

“Michael, listen to me. It's not fair that the only way for you to feel comfortable with yourself is to let people who don't deserve you keep you hidden like some dirty secret and treat you like shit. That won't ever help you find peace. You said you feel like you let go but obviously you carry that burden every day and you make it heavier every time you justify and allow this for yourself. I don't want you to _like_ it, I want you to love it. I want you to love yourself.” Michael's chest caved and he shuddered as the dam he'd tried to keep broke everything loose. 

Lincoln draped his legs over the bed and sat with Michael between them before he pressed himself to Michael's clavicle, leaving a tipsy line up the column of his neck. “Let me love you.” Michael let his arms fall to his side and acquiesced to the nipping teeth and sultry pecks Lincoln left against his throat. Lincoln could taste the salt from Michael's cries against his taste buds and he whispered, “Let me take care of you because you always take care of me.”

 

When Michael relinquished his unyielding authority, Lincoln indulged. He spoiled Michael with adoration, sucking on his jaw line and his earlobe and the barely-there freckles on his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around Michael's collarbones.“Tell me what you want,” Lincoln said, hoping that he understood this wasn't about obligation, it was strictly about _Michael_.

Michael turned to face him, gulping and blinking away the last remaining drops from his eyes. He sat up slowly, directing steady hands to Lincoln's hips before leaning into another, softer embrace. This time, Michael hooked his fingers inside the band and pulled. Tongues intertwined, Lincoln hitched himself up so that it was easy for Michael to get him undressed. He broke apart long enough to yank his shirt over his head, throwing it onto the dark hardwood floor. At last with no obstruction, Michael closed around Lincoln's hard on and he was on his knees again before him. Michael glossed each digit with pre-come that dribbled like maple syrup and brushed the small slit at the top with his thumb. Lincoln threw his head back, using his elbows to support his rapidly deadening weight.

Michael jerked on him lazily as he dropped fiery grazes with an open mouth along the inside of Lincoln's thighs. Wanting to absorb every beautiful detail Lincoln caught sight of the ironic badge branded to Michael's wrist: cute poison. Lincoln nearly laughed as he'd never seen it coming that someday his brother's bodily artwork would be the punchline to a bizarre inside joke. Michael's buzzed bristle-like strands scratched at sensitive skin and Lincoln's lids drifted as he ran an open palm over the crown of Michael's head. Michael tongued the sensitive seam down the middle of Lincoln's balls, skimming mildly with his teeth every so often like gentle rips at Lincoln's resolve. Lincoln knew that Michael had to get how ludicrous this was making him. He nuzzled his face in so that his tickling hair and impetuous suckling at the base of Lincoln's dick with a firm squeeze on each upstroke reduced the older man to a dramatic, mewling mess.

Lincoln bit his tongue in a futile effort to quiet down as Michael enveloped him to the hilt. Wet and hot and welcoming, it wasn't anything Lincoln hadn't felt before, but somehow it was  _everything_ Lincoln hadn't felt before. Michael's natural rhythm was thrown when Lincoln unexpectedly bucked his hips forward but Michael didn't miss a beat, only getting his throat to become amazingly more accommodating as Lincoln forced himself in. Michael made muted, infrequent noises as he worked, using his hands to pay careful attention to the parts his taste couldn't reach. Lincoln's gripped the sheets just like he'd seen from the other before as he crumbled to the mattress. Lincoln could do nothing but relish in the incredible euphoria that overcame him when Michael's lips brushed his pelvis as the hum of his low whining and heavy respiration massaged the tip, still impossibly buried. 

 

Just when Lincoln was going to beg Michael to stop because he _couldn't_ finish yet when there was so much more he wanted, Michael dislodged him and took a deep breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 


	5. The Love

The brothers locked, light against dark blues, and Michael picked himself up from the floor. Lincoln was huffing and damp with perspiration but Michael looked hardly fazed. Lincoln grew that much more annoyed at Michael's unbreakable foundation. He wanted Michael to give in to him the way he'd utterly given in to this whole thing- his feelings for Michael, his curiosity towards a new sexual high, forgetting himself in how  _fucking phenomenal_ it already all was. 

Lincoln actually had hoped that maybe Michael could  _let go_ now that he was in his safe place. The fact that he still wouldn't let his guard down kind of ticked with Lincoln. Though he truly wanted Michael to attain some clarity with himself, Lincoln's desire to dominate his little brother was winning out. Lincoln wanted to unravel him like he knew Michael had never done with any other before.

 

Lincoln tried to formulate a bold enough strategy to outwit a structural engineer and regain control of things. But before he could move Michael laid himself opposite Lincoln so that he was spread flat, the sheet that had been his cover up to that point abandoned on the floor. Lincoln surveyed Michael's intricately inked canvas until it faded out and there was nothing but creamy caramel colored skin. Michael's reach wandered until he braced himself with both fists and started stroking his impressive extent with heavy eyes while Lincoln just sat beside him. The way his teeth caught his pouty, rouged bottom lip as he knotted his brows, Lincoln felt himself mesmerized. Lincoln watched as one of Michael's slicked hands formed itself into a cock-ring around him and his breath hitched.

The oldest sibling could only gawk as his brother's eyes rolled into his head and Lincoln noticed that Michael's fingers were working his entrance open. Lincoln felt his dick twitch. He wasn't sure if he should interact with Michael, who seemed to have forgotten he wasn't alone, or let him keep going so that he could hear those intoxicating  _sounds_ coming from Michael's gifted throat some more. Michael's lids parted and he smiled up at Lincoln, pursing his lips as he bore a hypnotizing stare through Lincoln's brain. It was at that point the elder sibling realized that Michael was catering to him, like he always did. He was letting Lincoln take the reins because he knew that's what he wanted. He was swaying just a little bit, but just enough.

Lincoln seized the opportunity and got to his feet. He grabbed Michael's elbows and tugged, scanning his palms across the pictured plains until he got Michael's wrists above his head, then he jerked Michael toward him until he was hanging over the edge of the mattress. Lincoln looming over him, Michael made himself comfortable, urging his counter to continue. Lincoln pushed past his teeth without warning. Michael moaned in agreement and grasped around Lincoln's knees, spidering his fingers up until he was cupping his ass. Michael applied a little bit of pressure and directed Lincoln to give him more.

Before it even registered Lincoln was automatic, driving into Michael's face without fixity while his little brother eased wider around him. Lincoln cradled Michael's head as his energy gentled. He traced the tops of Michael's ears with the tips of his thumbs as he held him in place. Michael's infrequent eye contact while Lincoln's dick got between them made Lincoln's nuts tighten and he had to separate himself from Michael's tongue before he lost it like an amateur in front of an obvious pro.

 

This non-communicative intimacy they shared made the most immersing tryst Lincoln had ever had. Veronica had been a bit of a problem for Lincoln when it came to their love life. Their sex was always vanilla and routine. Everything about their relationship was perfect except the physical part. That was why he cheated so much that she had to say goodbye for good. The thought, brought vivid to his mind when Michael was still readying himself to be penetrated, made Lincoln ravenous and he got to the top of the mattress again.

As if reading his mind Michael flipped himself in offering on his knees, propped by one elbow and one palm of his hand. He arched a little bit so that his backside, so perfectly rounded and waiting, was up for Lincoln's pleasure and looked over his shoulder at his brother. The older of the two prayed, hoping that whatever God who'd created Michael and sent him to Lincoln would understand that he had no choice. Lincoln swung around him and positioned himself. His body draped slightly above his brother's, he only hovered. Lincoln couldn't quite press his naked flesh against Michael's naked flesh because then their naked bodies would be nakedly together. But before he could reason with himself anymore, Michael reared back so that the head of Lincoln's dick sank against Michael's loosened hole.

Lincoln blew out a rough wheeze and lost his balance, dissolving atop Michael's weight. Lincoln canted, helpless between Michael's cheeks, and hid his face in Michael's back where an angel slayed a demon. It seemed so appropriate. Lincoln absently slobbered against the image as Michael ground them together, seeming to be losing his patience. Lincoln realized that he was actually beginning to rattle Michael.

Lincoln backed himself up, raking his fingerprints over Michael's ribs as he built the distance. Michael shook like an autumn leaf in a windstorm, hanging his head and pushing again with less grace than before. Lincoln only leaned himself further, raising a fist around his hardness to keep himself sane. Michael whined and glared over his shoulder. Taking in air, Michael reached back and swatted Lincoln away so that he could pull him near but Lincoln only folded Michael's arm over his back and pinned him in place. Michael's only allowed option was to squirm in earnest.

 

Lincoln bent himself forward just enough. The instant Lincoln felt that heavenly, sinful give again it was almost unimaginable for him to stay still. But he let himself linger with only the tip inside while he took in the sight. Michael showed restraint even as he sheathed his brother gradually, engulfing Lincoln's every sense. No amount of decisiveness could keep him from groping Michael now that he knew he could and Lincoln dug his nails into the creases where his thighs met his torso, the pressure matching Michael's speed. When Lincoln was ultimately balls deep, he smoothed the sides of Michael's legs as Michael plied them further. Lincoln pulled out, nearly completely, feeling Michael's muscles contracting around him in objection the whole way. Waiting a few seconds, Lincoln splayed his palm over the nape of Michael's neck and buckled him back into the mattress before spearing him so suddenly that Lincoln felt him weaken as Michael keened into the memory foam. The most gratifying part was seeing Michael a little unhinged.

Removing himself, Lincoln traced his teeth with the tip of his tongue before he drove forward harshly one more time, forcing writhing pants of approval. Michael's long lashes fluttered and he leveled into his older brother tiredly, hoisting a slack fist to pet his own stiffened length. Lincoln rested his mass against his elbow and planted his forearm firmly across Michael's spine, keeping him still while he drew himself inside and out. Resigned to animal instinct overpowering them each, Lincoln tried his best to acknowledge some tiny shred of constraint. He knew only that he wanted to keep this up as long as he could because there was still the possibility that they'd both denounce it tomorrow and he would never feel this magic again.

Michael finally fully consented, letting his body lay lax where Lincoln wanted it as he fucked a steady succession of breathless decadence from Michael's lungs with brutal jabs. Lincoln begged with himself to be able to hold on through the audible favor. Lincoln had already come to terms with the fact that he was never going to be able to masturbate again without hearing his brother's satiated outcry drowning his recollection. But Lincoln didn't want to finish, not just yet.

 

When Michael was empty he whimpered, left tented and fussed. Lincoln collected him and laid them down, learning that Michael made a perfect little spoon, while he launched a dental attack on Michael's shoulder blades and neck. All night he'd been meaning to leave bruises like watercolor paints all over the grayscale picture so that when Michael saw himself in the mirror he would be reminded. Lincoln wanted to be reminded, too.

As Lincoln placed his arm beneath Michael's head like a pillow, he couldn't forget that he hadn't physically explored his little brother beyond a certain point. It occurred to him that it was probably difficult for Michael to come by personal attention the way he'd been dating. The desire to please Michael bested him and Lincoln wrapped his fingers around his brother's cock, comparing it to his own. It felt more or less the same- Lincoln supposed a dick was a dick. But Michael's reaction added an element Lincoln found oddly divine. Michael buried his face in Lincoln's bicep as he skewed himself helplessly. Lincoln caught Michael's hand with his own and laced their fingers together as he doled out a leisurely hand job with the other, the same kind he may self-administer on some Sunday morning wood.

Michael was malleable and flustered and Lincoln knew he was having just the effect he wanted. Leaving the younger on his back below him, Lincoln set up between Michael's legs. As he spread them apart, Lincoln rested one of Michael's ankles over his shoulder and leaned in, kissing him again. Michael dug his face into the crook of Lincoln's neck as he re-entered him. The tempo had become more tender as Lincoln realized Michael had become virtually unresponsive, leaving himself to Lincoln's leadership while he pushed into him and held him close. Lincoln brought their lips together once more as he felt Michael arch his back off the sheet.

 

Not sure if Michael would be ok with Lincoln coming inside of him, he started to pull out when he felt himself edge near. Michael woke enough to hold Lincoln against himself with failing strength as he ground them together tenuously when Lincoln froze. He moaned into Michael's mouth as he felt himself spill, still buried deep. The slow, sated humping that Lincoln could hardly manage after he was finished was enough for Michael. He threw his head back against the sweat-streaked comforter under them as he poured over his stomach and chest without even having to be touched.

Michael's cheeks were rosy and he could only roll his head sleepily against the mattress as Lincoln laid himself down beside his brother. Michael mustered the last effort he had to fit himself in against the trunk of Lincoln's body and he sighed his appreciation. Ignoring that they were both sticky and covered in each other, Lincoln cuddled him close and kissed his temple as they laid at the foot of the bed. Lincoln clasped Michael's fingers again. Michael brought their grip to his lips and kissed each of Lincoln's knuckles lightly.

 

They let the afterglow lull them to sleep, still tangled tightly together. Neither of them voiced it, but the last thought on both respective minds was the happiness of knowing that each would wake up and the other would be there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for checking out my writing! I'm working on a T-Bag/Michael one shot next, not sure if that'll materialize into anything longer but that pairing is delicious to me. So we'll see. xoxo


End file.
